


Ante-natal

by SqutternutBosh



Series: Torchwood Season 3: What could have been [6]
Category: Torchwood
Genre: F/M, Fix-It of Sorts, M/M, alternate series 3
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-07
Updated: 2020-12-30
Packaged: 2021-03-09 20:41:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 17,480
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27942419
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SqutternutBosh/pseuds/SqutternutBosh
Summary: Episode 6 of my alternate Torchwood series 3!Gwen's on the trail of some missing pregnant women. To prove there's a Torchwood connection, she and Jack follow her only lead and go undercover at some ante-natal classes, which proves to be only the beginning of a dangerous case for the team.
Relationships: Gwen Cooper/Rhys Williams, Jack Harkness/Ianto Jones
Series: Torchwood Season 3: What could have been [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1735756
Comments: 33
Kudos: 60





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Episode 6! I can't believe I've actually got this far with this project, thanks so much for the kudos and comments so far! I've decided to stick with the multi-chapter format, it helps me get things out faster and I do love writing a good cliffhanger or two...

After a horrendous week of the Rift coughing up space junk (plus one unhappy dragon) every few hours like a trans-spatial colicky baby, things at the Hub have settled back down. Gwen is glad to have some breathing space again after feeling like the over-active Rift would never cease – she can’t forget the momentary look of panic that flitted across Jack’s face when she asked whether this was it now, whether this would just be the way the Rift acted forever. Although he had had calmly answered no after a second or two, she had noticed the pause he’d taken. Sometimes she wonders just how much knowledge she has of coming events in this century. He’s always told them ‘you’ve got to be ready’ but has never said more than that.

Gwen puts that to the back of her mind. She might not understand the finer details of time travel and interfering with timelines but she assumes that whatever is to come is inevitable and they’ll deal with it when it arrives. No use worrying and waiting for it.

For now, she’s got a quiet afternoon to flick through local newspapers and keep an eye out for anything unusual. Ianto usually gets involved in this project with her too, but he’s holed up with Jack in his office on a conference call with UNIT. Gwen’s already heard raised voices coming from the room several times as Jack disagrees with the military operation, so she knows exactly the kind of mood Jack will be in by the time he’s done.

She turns the page of the South Wales Echo and shifts in her seat. She’s glad the morning sickness seems to have passed now but it’s been replaced by a constant, niggling backache at the base of her spine. Owen says it’s because her womb is dropping with the weight of the baby. Pregnancy really is a joy.

‘Oh my God!’ Gwen hears Owen shout from down in the Med Bay. She pauses her reading and looks over in that direction.

Owen and Tosh are conducting an experiment and Owen’s the very willing subject. Tosh has made some adjustments to the bracelet she and Ianto had dug out of the archive and Owen’s testing out whether her changes have worked.

‘Mmmm, oh my God, Tosh,’ Owen continues, sounding happier than Gwen has ever heard him. ‘This is amazing.’

Gwen marks her page – something about a missing woman has caught her eye – and wanders over to the Med Bay.

‘It’s working then?’ she asks the other two as she approaches. She leans on the railing and looks down at them. They’re both stood next to the autopsy bed, which is spread with a pretty eclectic buffet, accompanied by a rusty old bucket.

‘Have you eaten a grape recently, Gwen?’ Owen asks, holding a fat, purple grape up towards her, pinched between two fingers. ‘I think they’re my favourite.’

‘You haven’t tried the beer yet, or the chocolate,’ says Tosh. ‘I got you a regular Dairy Milk and a fruit and nut one.’

Owen considers the grape and then looks over the rest of the spread.

‘It’s all my favourite now,’ he says, then pops the grape into his mouth. He closes his eyes as he chews and lets out a little moan. At this expression, Gwen has a flashback to a time in her life that she rather regrets and forces it out of her mind.

‘Looks like you’ve cracked it then, Tosh, well done,’ Gwen says, smiling at the other woman.

Tosh smiles back, then makes a quick note on the clipboard she has in her hands.

‘It’s definitely progress,’ she says, ‘the only problem is, obviously, Owen can’t-,’

The end of her sentence is cut off as Owen reaches for the bucket and spits the chewed-up grape out into it. Tosh grimaces as Gwen does.

‘We haven’t got a solution for digestion yet,’ she concludes.

‘And right now, I don’t care,’ says Owen. He reaches for a block of cheddar and takes a huge bite, straight out of the wedge. It looks like something out of Wallace and Gromit. With his mouth full, he continues talking, ‘I can feel again too. I know it’s cold in here right now, I can feel it. But, if I do this,’ he reaches over and presses his fingers to Tosh’s exposed forearm, whose startled eyes widen, ‘warm! And soft!’

He spits the cheese into the bucket then his eyes light on the bottle of lager that Tosh has left out on the table. He grabs it and presses the bottle against his cheek.

‘Cool, cool alcohol,’ he says. He rests the neck of the bottle against the autopsy bed and brings the flat of his hand down against it, knocking the lid off. He looks at his palm in amazement, then holds it up to Tosh.

‘That even hurt a bit,’ he says.

Tosh looks serious.

‘Be careful, Owen,’ she says, as he happily glugs away at the beer, ‘we haven’t got anything figured out to help heal you yet, this is really just the start of -,’

Owen sticks his head in the bucket again and Gwen hears the sounds of liquid spattering against the metal. Her stomach churns and she wonders whether she’s fully over her morning sickness after all.

‘We need a system for this,’ she says. ‘Like in wine tasting, maybe you could… empty your mouth… more gracefully.’

Owen taps the bottle against his bottom lip and appears to be enjoying the smell of it.

‘Have you ever been wine tasting, Gwen?’ he asks. She shakes her head. ‘Everyone’s just pretending to swill it out, they’re actually drinking it all up and getting totally hammered.’

His eyes widen and he pauses, lifting the bottle away from his lips.

‘Can I get drunk with this on, Tosh?’ he asks, bending his arm to show her that he’s talking about the bracelet.

‘I’m not sure,’ she says. ‘Obviously, it’s designed to amplify sensation but the feeling of being drunk comes from the alcohol’s affect on the brain and other systems. I’m not sure whether the bracelet will connect those dots. And you’d have to actually swallow it, I’d have thought.’

‘Add it to our list of tests,’ he says. ‘Here’s the theory we’ll be testing: Can Owen get rat-arsed?’

He chugs another mouthful of beer and returns to the bucket. Gwen decides that, as happy as she is for Owen, her delicate pregnant belly can only take so much.

‘Enjoy your banquet,’ she says, then returns to her workstation.

Her eyes fall on the article she’d left open. The smiling face of a woman with dark hair and blue eyes, about the same age as Gwen, looks out at her from the print. ‘Pregnant Nia Porter, 31, hasn’t been seen since last Friday’, the caption below the image reads.

Gwen rests a hand across her growing stomach as she reads on. The article states that Nia, a primary school teacher who was expecting her first child in only 6 weeks’ time, had gone missing after attending her ante-natal class in Canton, near the city centre, the previous Friday. Her class leader and fellow mums-to-be had confirmed she had been in attendance but her husband, who hadn’t been able to go to the class with her as he normally did due to work commitments, had reported her missing later that night. Her car had been found in the car park at the community centre where the class was held.

Gwen looks at the photo of Nia again. Her stomach sinks as she reaches for her mouse and opens the Rift tracking software, knowing what she expects to find when she enters in the date and location.

But no, there’s no negative Rift spike. If something took Nia, it wasn’t the Rift.

Gwen frowns. Something, some gut instinct she’d learnt to listen to in the police and had honed in her time with Torchwood, tells her to keep digging.

The first suspect in so many of these cases is the husband. It only takes a few minutes and the assistance of Torchwood’s infiltration software to see that Michael Porter had a solid alibi: his debit card had been used at Paddington station only minutes after Nia’s class had ended, and CCTV from the same station in London showed him boarding the train not long after. He disembarked in Cardiff just over two hours later and caught a taxi at the taxi rank.

Gwen tries looking around in the Canton Community Centre system next but it seems their security cameras have been out of use for months. The closest thing she can find is a traffic camera around the corner, but it’s no good.

Another idea occurs to Gwen and she delves into the local news archives, using one of Tosh’s programmes to add search terms and bring up all the relevant stories from the past few years.

What she finds is horrifying.

Eight pregnant women have gone missing across the South Wales area in the past two years. The first instance was in Cardiff, followed by two in Newport, another in Cardiff, one in Swansea, another in Bridgend, then two more in Cardiff, including Nia.

Feeling sick for entirely new reasons now, Gwen crosses from the screen holding all of the news stories and uses Tosh’s backdoor into the South Wales police database. And there it is – an open case on missing pregnant women, with no hot leads. None have been found and the only thing to connect the women, who have different ages, jobs, religions and ethnicities, is the fact that they were all pregnant when they went missing.

Gwen double-checks the times and dates on them all – still no negative Rift spikes.

Ianto emerging from Jack’s office draws Gwen’s attention away from her screen. She turns to him as he closes the door behind him, having momentary difficulty with the handle given he’s trying to hold two empty mugs and his left arm is still in a sling from the Hub lockdown incident a few weeks before.

‘Is Jack free?’ she asks him.

‘I’d give him a minute to cool down if I were you,’ he says, walking over to her. He sets the mugs down on her desk. ‘Why?’

Gwen gestures at the screens she has open, including a document she’s been using to keep notes. Ianto scans through it all.

‘Shit,’ he says. ‘Surprised the media haven’t picked up on this one.’

‘It’s in the police notes,’ Gwen says. ‘They’ve made some sort of agreement so they don’t panic people.’

‘Looks like it was happening irregularly enough and spread widely enough that it didn’t capture much attention at first,’ Ianto says, running his finger along the list of dates, ‘but now it’s happened one too many times.’

‘Happening more often too,’ Gwen adds, tapping next to his finger on the screen. ‘These last two, Angela Scott and Nia Porter, they’re only two months apart.’

‘Have you checked for-?’

‘No negative Rift spikes, not on any of them.’

‘I know this must feel kind of personal right now, Gwen,’ Ianto says, ‘but you know what he’s going to ask.’

‘What makes it a Torchwood case?’ She sighs. ‘I don’t know, Ianto. The police are at a total loss so maybe it’s something they don’t understand. I just have a feeling we need to take a look.’

Ianto nods. ‘Well, you know Jack’s a big believer in gut instinct. He trusts yours. Just let me get a fresh cup of coffee to him before you go in there with this.’

‘Got it. Thanks, Ianto.’

‘No problem.’

As Ianto heads off and busies himself with the coffee machine, Gwen examines her screens of research and notes again. She taps her fingers against her chin, eyes flitting from face to face of the missing women.

She looks again at the scribbles she’s made in the notebook under her arm, where she’s been gathering her thoughts and writing out questions to herself to look further into.

Owen pokes his head up out of the Med Bay.

‘Is that Ianto I hear at the coffee machine?’ he asks.

‘It is indeed,’ Gwen tells him.

Owen rushes up the steps.

‘Ianto!’ he bellows as he does so. ‘Ianto, mate, you’ve got to make me a cup of your genius coffee, I want it hot and I want it fresh.’

Ianto doesn’t look up at him as he’s busy operating the coffee machine, his usable hand on one of the levers.

‘You’re making me feel like a drug dealer, Owen,’ he tells the other man, who’s now hovering near his elbow.

‘You deal in an addictive substance and I haven’t had a fix in so long.’

Ianto nudges him aside.

‘Give me space to work in and yes, I’ll make you a cup.’

‘Magic.’

Gwen shakes her head at the two of them, trying to ignore the scent of the coffee as it brews and bubbles. As soon as she can, she’ll be the one pestering Ianto for a fresh mug of caffeinated elixir.

She sees a comment she’s scrawled in the margin of her notebook: _When were they last seen?_

She remembers scribbling it here about an hour ago, a thought to come back to as she pieced all the data together. The news story on Nia Porter had made it clear when she was last seen and Gwen had wondered under what circumstances the others had disappeared.

Flicking through the articles and police files on the disappearances of the women, Gwen doesn’t find anything immediately suspicious. They had all been out alone, seemingly going about their lives just before they went missing. None had been taken from their homes. In all cases, witnesses attested to seeing them not long beforehand and none had been concerned for their wellbeing – everything had appeared fine. The cars of all but one woman had been found but they hadn’t yielded any prints or any other evidence.

Two of the eight had disappeared just after leaving work, another two when out doing the food shop. One had been on her way back from a coffee shop catch up with her mother and… Three, including the most recent case, had disappeared not long after attending an ante-natal class.

Gwen looks into this further. All private classes at community centres, nothing on the NHS. The classes seem to have been run by different companies, but Gwen finds that their websites are all quite new and all very similar. They appear to each by led by three different women, all with a wealth of birthing and early years’ experience, and yet… Gwen squints at the photos of the class tutors. They’re not totally dissimilar looking. There’s something familial in their dark eyes and wide smiles. Each has a different name but their initials are the same: Judith Clark, Jan Collins, and Julia Chandler.

Gwen’s heart leaps into her throat. This is it, she can feel it. Even if it isn’t alien, she’s determined to do something about it.

Owen’s making obscene moaning sounds again as he slurps at a cup of Ianto’s coffee. Gwen tunes him out and barges past him to get to the printer, grabbing her work while the paper is still hot.

She nearly collides with Ianto as he exits Jack’s office.

‘He might not-,’ Ianto starts.

‘I know, I know, if he’s in a strop I’ll just deal with him,’ Gwen tells him as she walks into Jack’s office, her print-outs hugged close to her body. The edges of the paper sit atop the rounded swell that’s recently become a lot more apparent in her torso.

‘And how, exactly, would you deal with me, Gwen?’

Jack’s sat at his desk, one hand holding his old-fashioned fountain pen to a detailed looking form, the other clutching his blue-and-white striped mug. His tone is cheeky, as is the twinkle in his eyes that comes with it, so Gwen thinks he’s not been entirely worn down by dealing with UNIT.

‘Wouldn’t you like to know,’ she says, taking the seat opposite him. She drops the papers onto the desk. Jack arches an eyebrow.

‘I have enough paperwork already,’ he says.

‘Fun call with UNIT?’ she asks.

‘They always are.’

Jack reaches over and draws the top sheet of Gwen’s pile over to him with the point of his pen.

‘What’s this then?’ he asks. He hasn’t picked the paper up properly yet and is scanning it upside-down, so Gwen knows he’s not committing to anything until she sells him on it.

‘Missing women,’ she says. ‘Missing _pregnant_ women.’

Gwen doesn’t miss Jack’s eyes flickering down to her belly. She adjusts her top and folds her arms to cover it. This case isn’t about her, it’s about these other women and the fact that no one has found them yet.

‘How many?’

‘Eight over two years.’

‘That’s not exactly -,’

‘There’s more,’ she cuts over him. She draws out a sheet of her workings and jabs her finger at some of the headings to illustrate her points as she continues. ‘No negative Rift spikes, no obvious connections between any of the women. They’re spread across several locations in South Wales but mostly in Cardiff. No one’s found a sign of any of them. All were out just living their lives before they vanished without a trace.’

She’s started to get his attention now. He puts his pen down and slides more of the papers towards him.

‘Very sad,’ he says. ‘And getting very suspicious.’

‘I thought so.’

‘So, what makes this a case for Torchwood?’

There it is, the question she’d known was coming. She still doesn’t have a solid answer to it but she presses on. She holds up the print-out with the faces of the three women who lead the ante-natal classes.

‘Do these women look similar to you?’ she asks.

Jack frowns and leans forward to examine the photos more closely.

‘They don’t look entirely different. Sexy in a middle-aged hippy kind of way,’ he concludes, leaning back again. He takes a sip of his coffee. ‘Who are they?’

‘They lead ante-natal classes.’

A look of confusion passes over Jack’s features so Gwen explains.

‘They’re courses you can go on before you have a baby. You don’t have to, but a lot of women – and their partners – find them helpful. They prepare you for the birth and looking after your new baby. The NHS runs some, or you can go private. The women here all run these courses, private ones. Three of our missing women were at their courses just minutes before they went missing. And the others had all recently attended sessions at similar outfits.’

‘That’s some good work, Gwen, you should be a detective,’ Jack says with a wry smile. ‘But I’m still not seeing the Torchwood connection here. As UNIT just told me - repeatedly, boy, that Corporal Jennings really loves the sound of his own voice - I have to prove that I’m making good use of our resource here or-,’

Gwen is momentarily distracted from her cause.

‘Or what?’ she asks.

Jack waves a hand airily. ‘Nothing. Doesn’t matter, they don’t have jurisdiction over us. I still need to know why we should get involved here.’

‘Absence of evidence is not evidence of absence?’ she offers.

‘Nice try,’ Jack says with a chuckle.

Gwen falls back in her chair and sighs deeply. She catches Jack’s eyes and holds his gaze.

‘I don’t know, Jack. I have a feeling about this one. The police have got nothing and I’ve looked into it – this pattern of missing pregnant women doesn’t stretch beyond the confines of the Welsh stretch of the M4. That seems a bit Rifty to me.’

Jack drums his fingers on his desk. He turns to look out of his office window, watching Tosh and Ianto offer up new foods for Owen to sample. He has a visceral reaction to the scent of a jar of pickled onions and gags.

Jack looks back to Gwen. He rests his chin on his interlaced fingers, elbows propped on his desk.

‘The least we can do is take a look and rule out alien intervention,’ she says. ‘Please, Jack.’

He gives her a small nod.

‘Alright. Take the lead. What’s your plan?’

*~*TW*~*

Gwen had been perfectly happy to go into the ante-natal classes alone, but Jack had put his foot down on that one.

‘No lone wolves,’ he had told her. ‘And besides, won’t we be so much more believable as Mr and Mrs Harkness?’

Gwen had grimaced and told him in no uncertain terms that if she hadn’t taken Rhys’s surname she wasn’t going to take his, even if only to pretend. Ianto had been in charge of creating their fake identities and had found a compromise in naming them Mr and Mrs Hooper – it was just easier for the paperwork if they had that in common. Their first names remained unchanged.

They thought they would need Tosh to work her magic and get them booked into the ante-natal classes through the backdoor, but as it turned out, a new run of Happy Birth classes with Julia Chandler is due to begin at the Canton Community Centre and Gwen books them the final spot.

Only two days after their initial conversation about the missing women, Gwen parks her car up down the road from the Canton Community Centre. She checks the time on the dashboard.

‘We’re a bit early,’ she says.

Jack looks out of the window at the rows of terraced houses. Lots of red bricks, lots of bay windows. It’s a grey day outside, with rain threatening. Standard-issue Cardiff weather on a standard-issue Cardiff street.

‘We could head in and check the place out,’ he suggests.

‘Let’s not draw attention to ourselves right away.’

Jack shifts in his seat and adjusts his jacket. Gwen had told him in no uncertain terms that his usual outfits would stick out like a sore thumb at these classes, so he’s dressed in a navy polo shirt and dark jeans with a lightweight bomber jacket that he’d had to go out and buy. He misses his proper coat; without it, he has the constant niggling feeling that he’s forgotten something.

Gwen leans back in her seat but keeps her arms outstretched to the steering wheel.

‘This isn’t how I thought I’d be taking these classes,’ she says.

‘You’ll have to take them again, with Rhys.’

She snorts. ‘He’s not happy about this case. I told him about it last night.’

‘He thinks you’re going in to danger?’

‘It’s not just that. He doesn’t love that we’re playing happy couples,’ she gestures between herself and Jack.

‘I’m taken,’ he reminds her, teasing, knowing Rhys’s insecurities.

‘So am I!’ she says, then shakes her head. ‘No, no, it’s not that. I think he just felt a bit left out, y’know? Like, I’m actually pregnant, with his actual baby, and you’ll be swanning around pretend like it’s yours. Some possessive male instinct, I guess.’

‘Huh.’

Jack ponders that. He rests his head against the car window, feeling the cool glass on his forehead. The rain has started to come down now, a fine drizzle. He watches a droplet wind its way down the window pane.

It was so long ago that Lucia had been pregnant with Alice. Had he been possessive? Had he been jealous? He can barely remember now, and Lucia had tried to cut him out of as much of the process as possible. He’d had to fight to have any semblance of a relationship with his newborn daughter, who was being brought up to believe he was dangerous and untrustworthy.

Neither of which were entirely untrue. But he didn’t want his little girl to know that. When she was young, Alice used to look at him as if he could do no wrong, as if he were the king of her world. He would tickle her and chase her and give her presents every chance he got, and she would laugh and smile and ask for more.

Lucia had managed to drive that out of her eventually. Not all the way though, Jack hoped. Alice was her own grown woman now but Jack hoped there was still the spark of that little girl’s love for him in her heart somewhere.

‘It’s an amazing thing,’ he says to Gwen after a few moments, ‘being a parent. Nothing else in the universe like it.’

Gwen drops her hands from the steering wheel.

‘You know that from experience?’

Jack shrugs.

‘I’m older than anyone you’ve ever met, Gwen. I’ve had time to experience a lot of things.’

‘Jack?’

He checks his watch – he’d been allowed to keep that and his vortex manipulator on. The vortex manipulator had been non-negotiable.

‘We should head in,’ he says. ‘We don’t want to miss the section about planning your birth playlist. I want the baby to be born to the YMCA, so we need to learn how to get the timing right.’

He starts to get out of the car but Gwen reaches over to grab his arm.

‘Do you have kids, Jack?’ she asks, big green eyes staring up at him intently. Jack grasps her hand.

‘Right now, I have baby Hooper,’ he tells her, ‘and if their mother doesn’t get moving, they’re going to miss their first day of school.’

With that, he lets go of her hand and gets out of the car with the feeling that he’s already given away more than he wanted to. It’s all this pregnancy and baby talk, he decides, it’s getting his own hormones out of whack and he’s getting sentimental.

He resolves to give Alice a call later. It’s been too long.


	2. Chapter 2

As they approach the community centre, Jack taps his ear, opening up the comms line to the Hub. Gwen can hear him stood next to her and on the slightest delay in her other ear over the comms.

‘We’re heading in,’ he says.

Gwen imagines the others back at the Hub, crowded round Tosh’s workstation, listening in. They haven’t brought the i5 software so they’re going to have to make do with just sound and whatever Jack picks up with his vortex manipulator, set to scan for Rift traces.

‘Remember to play nice, Jack,’ Owen’s voice chimes in. ‘None of your “I once helped a two-headed alien from Alpha Centauri give birth on a crashing spaceship” stories.’

Jack glances over at Gwen and rolls his eyes.

‘You have such little faith in me, Owen,’ he says. ‘You could’ve played the dad, you know.’

‘Not my scene,’ Owen replies.

Jack pushes the door to the centre open and holds it for Gwen to walk through. The reception area is a bit shabby, lots of those uncomfortable chairs with the wooden armrests and stiff fabric backs like in a doctor’s waiting room, a large wooden desk shoved in one corner hosting a very old computer. Peeling posters adorn the painted breezeblock, advertising a range of classes and activities, everything from bingo to doggy and me yoga.

Jack inspects a flyer for pottery classes.

‘I could see me doing this,’ he says, tapping at the image of the woman using a potter’s wheel. ‘Running my hands up and down the clay, shaping it up? Very sensual.’

Gwen scoffs.

‘Knowing you, you’d just make a giant clay di- oh, hi!’ Gwen switches to a bright, sunny tone as a lady emerges from behind a beaded curtain and stands behind the desk area. ‘We’re here for the ante-natal class?’

Jack steps away from the wall of posters and comes over to Gwen, wrapping his arm around her and pulling her into his side.

‘We’re having a baby,’ he says, serving the lady one of his toothiest grins. He lays a hand on Gwen’s belly. As much as she loves Jack, she isn’t a fan of this without permission but she bites her tongue this time as it’s all part of the roles they’re playing. ‘I’m so excited.’

‘Congratulations,’ the woman replies in a bored voice, totally unaffected by Jack’s charms. His smile drops a bit and Gwen smirks. ‘You’ll want the main hall, it’s just down the corridor.’

She points away to the left, indicating the corridor lit brightly with yellowing fluorescents. 

‘Thanks so much,’ Gwen says. ‘Come along, dear.’

She jabs Jack slightly with her elbow as she wriggles free of his grasp and pulls him along the corridor with her.

‘Dial it down, eh?’ she tells him.

‘I don’t know what you’re talking about, my sweet, we’re having a baby and I’m the luckiest guy in the world,’ he says. Gwen hears retching noises over the comms line at Jack’s saccharine words and isn’t sure which of the other three it might be – it might actually be all three of them.

‘Oh, isn’t that sweet,’ a woman, who has been observing them, says. She’s stood in the doorway to the main hall, ready to greet newcomers. Dressed in a black dress, long mustard cardigan and chunky amber necklace, Gwen recognises her from the class website.

‘Julia Chandler,’ she says, offering a hand out to Jack and Gwen to shake. Gwen notices how cold it is as she does so.

‘Gwen Hooper,’ Gwen says as she shakes Julia’s hand. ‘This is my husband, Jack.’

‘I’m here and I’m ready to learn,’ Jack tells her, whipping out his classic grin again.

‘Someone’s a bit excited,’ Gwen says apologetically, fighting the urge to glare at Jack so as to remain in character. He appears unfazed and has clearly won the teacher over, holding her handshake for a long time in both of his hands.

Of course. Gwen had nearly missed it. He was getting his vortex manipulator to scan her.

‘That’s what we like to see,’ Julia says as she finally manages to get her hand back from Jack. ‘Excited mums and dads to be. Now, you can help yourself to some juice and biscuits at the table over there, we’re just waiting for one more couple to arrive and then we’ll get started.’

She smiles and waves them through in the direction of the snack table. Gwen and Jack say their thanks and cross over to it, Gwen looking around the hall.

It’s totally unsuspicious, a standard British hall space with dusty, old parquet flooring, long, heavy curtains on the windows, and a pile of gym mats in the corner. Three other couples have set themselves up in a circle, perched on collapsible, plastic chairs, making small-talk as they wait. A red-headed woman, clearly more heavily pregnant than Gwen, smiles at her as they make eye contact. Gwen smiles back.

She feels suddenly nervous. Not ‘working a case’ nervous, that’s the sort of flutter she can damp down when she’s focused. No, now she’s nervous because the reality of having a baby is closing in around her. This is what normal people are out there doing. They’re not arguing with their spouse about how far into the pregnancy they can go before giving up chasing weevils around the sewers, they’re going to classes like this, reading all the books and painting the nursery.

Gwen has a baby book on her bedside table, Rhys had bought everything he could find in Waterstones days after Owen confirmed her pregnancy. She’s only made it through chapter one and most of that was tips on how to get pregnant, something she’d already managed without the aid of a book. The rest probably isn’t that simple.

‘Anything from that scan, Tosh?’ Jack asks, making it look like he’s talking to Gwen as he pours orange squash for them both into plastic cups.

‘Nothing,’ Tosh comes in over the comms. ‘All normal so far.’

‘You are coming on a bit strong, Jack,’ Ianto chips in.

‘Thank you, Ianto,’ Gwen says pointedly, accepting the squash from Jack.

‘What? I’m channelling my inner Rhys,’ Jack argues, rolling the R of Rhys hard across his tongue.

‘Oh god,’ says Ianto. ‘ _Do not_ do your impression of a Welsh accent.’

Jack helps himself to some biscuits. He holds the plate out to Gwen but she shakes her head, feeling a bit sick.

They take two of the spare seats, attracting the interest of the others in the circle.

‘Jack,’ Jack says, giving them all a little wave. ‘And this is my wife, Gwen. And this is Jack junior.’

He indicates Gwen’s baby bump.

‘We haven’t actually agreed on names,’ she tells the group.

The others around the circle introduce themselves and Gwen files the names away. They’re probably all perfectly normal people who aren’t involved in this case, but she’s going to check up on them all later anyway, just in case.

‘You look a bit nervous, dear,’ the woman next to Gwen says, the red-head she’d noticed earlier. Mimi, here with her boyfriend Greg, who looks a bit twitchy. She smiles kindly.

‘I am a bit,’ Gwen admits, part-truth, part playing her part. ‘I’ve been feeling a bit anxious, that’s why we’ve come to these classes a bit early, you see, I’m not due for a few months yet. Jack thought it might help if we got this done and could meet some other families.’

‘That’s a good idea,’ Mimi says. She shifts in her seat, the plastic chairs clearly not comfortable for someone carrying the extra weight she was. ‘We’re having twins. Greg nearly shat himself when we found that out.’

‘Well, it’s two of everything, isn’t it?’ Greg jumps to his own defence, sitting up straighter. ‘I wasn’t prepared for that. Neither’s my bank balance.’

Mimi pats his hand.

‘It’s going to be fine, babe. Do your breathing exercises.’

Gwen likes Mimi’s confidence. It’s starting to make her feel more confident herself.

She’s still got plenty of time to read the baby books, and to have all of the conversations with Rhys. Maybe they’ll even come to some of these classes together once she knows they’re not part of some kind of galactic human trafficking ring.

The final couple arrives, only there’s some confusion about their names and the fact that they’re now one chair short due to the fact that the final couple is actually made up of three people: two men and their surrogate. Their bickering about who failed to make the booking correctly is quietened by Julia, who has taken a spot standing in the centre of the circle.

‘Welcome everyone,’ her voice is calm and slightly hushed, reverent to her own words. ‘You’re all her because you’re just beginning the greatest journey life offers: parenthood. I’m here to be your guide as you plan for what’s to come, to make you feel prepared for every eventuality. I’m going to warn you now, we get stuck straight into some of the tough stuff – after all, you’ve all already managed the fun part.’

A light chuckle goes around the room. Gwen is drawn to Julia as she speaks, hanging on her words. Something about her makes Gwen feel safe.

‘That does mean that we’re going to go straight into some sharing. Don’t feel the need to share if you’re not comfortable, but many of my students find it useful to just face these things head on and get it all out in the open. You’ll find that many of the questions and fears you have are shared here. You’re not alone. This is a safe space.’

She wheels around, her eyes coming to land on Gwen. Gwen grips the sides of her chairs at the unexpected attention.

‘Gwen, my darling,’ she says. ‘What scares you most about giving birth?’

Oh god. Gwen hasn’t allowed herself to think much about that part yet. It all seems rather abstract, just something you see actresses do on TV, wailing and huffing and puffing, their hair still perfectly done up. Not something people do in real life.

She’s aware of everyone in the circle watching her, of Jack beside her, a gleeful spark in his eye that she’s been zoned in on so early.

‘Uh, the pain?’ she says. The women around the circle nod their heads and mutter in agreement.

‘And why does that scare you, Gwen, dear?’ Julia pushes on.

‘Because it’ll hurt?’ Gwen doesn’t know what else to add other than that. Why else would she be worried about pain?

‘But why are you worried it’s going to hurt?’ Julia continues, Gwen’s answer apparently still unacceptable.

‘I, uh-,’

‘I think what my wife is trying to say,’ Jack says, reaching over and taking Gwen’s hand in his, really leaning into his character now. He’s always had rough, practical hands, Jack. She feels his toughened palms rub against the back of her hand. ‘Is that what she really fears is the unknown. She knows there will be pain, we all do, but she doesn’t know how much or for how long. Giving birth is a feat of endurance and none of us know just how much we’ll have to endure until it happens.’

Gwen’s jaw drops. One couple claps at Jack’s words.

‘Jesus, Jack,’ Owen’s shocked voice sounds in her ear.

Julia smiles at him, her lips stretching wide enough to make Gwen wonder whether she has a few more teeth than the average human. Something to look up later.

‘Wonderful, Jack,’ she says. ‘Just wonderful. Would you agree, Gwen?’

‘Um, yes,’ Gwen fumbles, but gets over it. She pats Jack’s hands. ‘You always help me find just the right words, honey.’

‘No problem, my sweet,’ he says – and he winks, so only Gwen can see it.

Julia has turned her attention on some of the other couples around the circle now. Gwen tunes them out as she tries to focus on the task at hand. She’d noticed Jack tap away at a few buttons on his vortex manipulator when pretending to check his watch and wonders if he’s picking anything up.

She thinks about Nia Porter and how she was last seen in this very hall. Only Julia Chandler will have seen her, have known her. Watching Julia lead the session gives Gwen the perfect opportunity to observe her, to take her in and assess whether there’s something otherworldly going on.

So far, her list of ‘potential alien qualities’ is made up of cold hands, dreamy voice and wide smile. Nothing you couldn’t find on a bona-fide human.

The rest of the session runs out just as the website had described. They talk about birth and birthing plans, preparing a bag for the hospital stay, and their wishlists for the first few days with their baby so Julia can help them set their expectations. Gwen has to come up with a lot of answers on the fly but is surprised by how heartfelt they seem, as if her sub-conscious has been getting on with preparing for the baby without her.

Jack chips in too with detailed additions. Gwen is stunned when he proclaims his desire to fast during the birth, as if Gwen can’t eat anything, he doesn’t want to either. Julia gently suggests that whereas this is admirable, it would be more useful to Gwen if he was feeling strong and ready to support her. Gwen hadn’t even realised she wasn’t going to be allowed to eat during labour, just another reason to hope for a quick one.

The session ends with Julia stating that next week will be more hands-on: they’ll be trying out birth positions and practicing breathing techniques. Gwen can’t imagine how much trouble Jack could get them into with this roleplay.

As the other couples leave the hall, Jack gives Gwen a signal – he wants her to distract Julia while he checks out the rest of the building.

Gwen has thought about this. There’s one specific thing she’s been saving up to ask when no one else is around.

She approaches the other woman, who’s busy tidying up the cups and biscuit crumbs.

‘Julia?’ she starts, getting her attention. Julia turns to her, hands full of used cups and half a biscuit.

‘Gwen,’ she says. ‘How can I help you?’

‘I was just wondering,’ Gwen is pacing herself, leading up to the question, preparing to gauge Julia’s reaction. ‘Only, I was a bit nervous about coming here because I saw about her in the paper and saw what happened. Do you know Nia Porter?’

Something flashes across Julia’s features. It quickly becomes sadness, but for a moment there, Gwen saw it for what it was: anger. Gwen’s heart leaps.

‘I do, poor lamb,’ Julia says, appropriately empathetic. ‘Just horrible, but I’m sure she’ll show up. You’ve nothing to be scared of here.’

‘Did you… did you see anything when she went missing?’

There it is again, the tiniest flicker of anger. She doesn’t like these questions. Her reply comes out in a very different tone to the floaty voice she’s been putting on all evening.

‘Nia was here at class, then she left to go home. We’re encouraging all of our students now to come as a couple or with a friend if they can.’

‘So you did see something? She was taken?’

She walks way from Gwen and drops what she’s holding into the bin.

‘I wouldn’t worry yourself about it, Mrs Hooper,’ she says, her back still turned. ‘You’ve got your husband with you, haven’t you? And the police will do the rest.’ She turns back to Gwen, smile fixed back on her face, that drifty voice spilling out again as if it’s something she can turn on and off. ‘You should feel sorry for me, you should, I have to walk here alone.’

Gwen tries a different angle.

‘Oh, we could give you a lift, if you’d like?’

‘Don’t worry about it. Like I said, it’ll be fine. Look, here’s your husband now.’

Gwen could curse Jack Harkness and his timing as he strides into the room, crashing in on the only lead she’s got.

‘Sorry, bathroom,’ he says by way of explanation for his absence. ‘Are you ready to go, honey?’

He’s taken aback by the glare Gwen gives him.

‘I was just offering Julia here a lift,’ she says, raising her eyebrows, trying to convey that she’s on to something.

‘And I was saying that I’m perfectly fine. Don’t you worry about me, Jack, you just get your wife home safe now,’ Julia says. She’s grabbed her bag and is bustling past them. ‘See you next week.’

‘What was that all about?’ Jack asks after she’s gone.

Gwen growls and thumps the back of one of the chairs.

‘She knows something, Jack, I can tell. You should’ve seen the look on her face when I asked about Nia Porter.’

‘Well, if she does, I don’t think it’s alien,’ he says. ‘I’ve checked this building over and Ms Chandler herself. Tosh has confirmed. We’ve got na-da.’

‘That’s it then?’ Gwen says. ‘We’re done with this investigation?’

Jack, framed in the doorway, folds his arms. His silhouette isn’t as dramatic without his sweeping coat.

‘We can’t be chasing down everything, Gwen. This is a case for the police.’

‘We’ve barely scratched the surface!’

‘We’ve seen enough. Not for us.’

‘And what about all the missing women, Jack?’

Jack looks down at his feet.

‘It’s not our job to save them, Gwen. If you think you’re onto something with Julia, pass it on to PC Andy. We’ve got our own work to be doing.’

Gwen could kick the chair next to her, send it crashing over. But she doesn’t. She takes a deep breath and scrubs her hands over her face.

‘I think he’s right, Gwen,’ Tosh’s voice sounds in her ear. Gwen had completely forgotten the comms lines were open. ‘I’ve done some more digging and I can’t find anything. I’m sorry.’

‘That’s ok, Tosh,’ Gwen tells her. She sighs.

‘I am sorry, Gwen, I am,’ Jack says, stepping in from the doorway. ‘We’ve done what we can here. If anything else comes up, we’ll be hot on it, I promise.’

Gwen nods. ‘Ok. I’ll be keeping an eye out.’

‘You do that,’ Jack says. ‘Now, come on, let’s get you home to your real husband.’

*~*TW*~*

Jack is surprised to find Owen alone in the Hub after Gwen drops him off. He’d been hoping to find Ianto there, especially given the other man had taken a shine to Jack’s undercover outfit earlier, but no. There’s just Owen, alone on the sofa, a beer in one hand, a bucket on his lap.

‘Oh look, it’s the dad-to-be,’ Owen says by way of a greeting.

‘Got to commit to the part,’ Jack tells him.

‘Over-commit more like. That was some hammy acting, Jack, what was with all the “my sweets” and “honeys”? Is that how you talk to Ianto when we’re not around?’

‘No, Ianto likes it when I call him-,’

‘Ah-ah-ah, don’t want to know!’ Owen covers his ears and Jack smirks. He knew Owen was never going to let him finish that sentence, which is a good thing – Ianto would’ve killed him if that particular bit of information got out.

‘The others gone home?’ Jack asks as he walks over, shucking off his jacket.

Owen shakes his head.

‘They went to try that new sushi place in town,’ Owen says. ‘I would’ve gone with them but,’ he holds the bucket up and Jack understands.

‘Right.’

‘I never missed the taste of sushi, to be fair. Beer though,’ he takes a drag on his bottle and swills it around his mouth, then swallows. ‘I’ve been swallowing some, don’t tell Tosh.’

‘As long as you don’t give me another demonstration of how you get liquid out of your body, that’s fine with me.’

Owen sets the bucket down on the coffee table. He fiddles with the bracelet Tosh has modified to give him some of his senses back.

‘You alright?’ Jack asks him.

‘Oh, y’know, just… all that baby stuff,’ he says.

‘I didn’t realise you were so paternal.’

‘It’s not that, it’s…’ Owen pauses for a moment, the starts up again. ‘Like, Tosh and Ianto have gone out for dinner. To eat. Gwen’s gone home to do whatever she does there and grow her baby. You’re stood here, you can do all of those things, and you’ve got forever to do it. And what have I got? My fucking bucket.’

He kicks the bucket off the table. Jack rights it before it makes too much mess and falls down on the sofa beside Owen.

‘I thought you were happy with the progress you and Tosh have made,’ he says, letting his head fall back against the sofa, grazing the wall behind.

Owen avoids his eye and picks at the label on his beer.

‘I was. I am. Tosh has done _amazing_ but… am I ever going to have all of those other things back? Am I going to have a body that works and the life to go with it?’

‘I don’t want to make any promises,’ Jack says. ‘I can’t promise you’ll be like you were before. But there’s time, and there are still so many options to try.’

Owen takes another swig from his bottle, the holds it up to his eyes, letting the light shine through the brown glass. Empty. He sets it down on the coffee table and turns to Jack, looking him hard in the eyes.

‘Sometimes I wish you’d never brought me back, Jack.’

It’s not said bitterly, it’s a statement of fact. For Jack though, these words are like being punched in the gut. He knows Owen feels this way, and he knows he should never have done what he did, could never have expected it to work out how it has, and yet –

‘I know. But I can’t do anything about that now.’

‘Some fucking time traveller you are,’ Owen mutters, looking away again. He kicks at the leg of the table.

‘You know that’s not how it works.’

‘Whatever.’

Jack turns to Owen in earnest now, shuffling closer to him.

‘Think of all the things you’ve been able to do because you’re still here, Owen,’ he tells him. ‘Without you, Tosh would have died. That’s pretty major. And there’s still so much you’re going to do, I know it. This isn’t it for you.’

‘I thought you said no promises?’ Owen says wryly.

‘It’s not a promise,’ Jack replies. ‘It’s a feeling. You get good at these things when you get to my age.’

‘Maybe I’ll get good at it too. Although… if Tosh finds a way that means I could die, properly die… I wouldn’t do it straight away. But when the time came, it’d be nice to know there was an option. No offence, Jack, but I don’t want to live forever the way you do.’

This time Jack looks away. He clears his throat and gets up from the sofa.

‘Nothing can be done about me,’ he says. ‘I’m broken forever. But you, Owen, you’re fixable. We’re gonna do everything we can to fix you.’

*~*TW*~*

A week later, it’s Gwen’s night off and she’s heading to the ante-natal class again. She hasn’t told any of the others where she’s going, she doesn’t want to get into it with Jack again. He’s written this off as a non-Torchwood investigation and yeah, sure, that’s fine, but she can’t shake it. Aliens or not, she needs to do what she can for those missing women, and her conversation with Julia the previous week is the closest she’s come.

She pulls up in the community centre car park this time, wanting her car close by if a quick getaway is needed. She fires off a quick text to Rhys,

_Sorry, caught up at work, going to be another 2 hours, I’ll make it up to you :)_ _xxx_

She’s got her handgun in the glove box, as well as a stun gun. She opens it and looks inside at the two weapons. Will she really need either of them? She’s not here for a confrontation, she’s just looking for more evidence. She shuts the glove box and leaves the two behind.

A reply back from Rhys,

_Tell me how you’re going to make it up to me and I’ll decide how bothered I am about you being late for dinner again x_

She laughs out loud and sends off a reply, being as explicit as she can using just emoticons. Still grinning she tucks her phone away in her back pocket and approaches the community centre, trying to find the Gwen Hooper frame of mind.

She’s confused when she bumps into a somehow even larger Mimi on her way out as she heads down the corridor to the main hall.

‘Oh, Gwen, we wondered where you were! Did you not get the email?’ the red-head says as she approaches, Greg at her heel.

Gwen casts her mind back. Damn. She’d registered for this class with a newly created Gwen Hooper email address that she hadn’t thought to log in to before coming here today.

‘I haven’t seen it, have I missed something?’ she says.

‘Class was moved to an earlier time this week, they’ve got to deep clean the hall tonight for some event,’ Mimi explains.

‘Oh no! I’ve totally missed it then?’

‘Yeah, sorry. Shame too, it was a good one, I feel like I’ve got a much better idea of what I’m doing now. Where’s that husband of yours then?’

‘Stuck at work,’ Gwen makes the grimacing face she’s sure Rhys makes whenever he has to apologise to family and friends for her absences. ‘Is Julia still here? I might just catch up with her and see if I can do any homework for next time.’

‘Good idea, she’s still in the hall. See you next week!’

‘Yeah, see you.’

Mimi walks away, her steps shortened by the weight of her ever-growing stomach. She bats Greg away as he fusses around her, trying to open doors for her.

Gwen checks her watch – maybe she’s not going to be as late home as she thought. It’s probably even better that she’s missed the class, she thinks, now she can talk to Julia one-on-one without having to endure two hours of breathing techniques and faking labour first.

The door to the hall creaks as she pushes it open, catching Julia’s attention. She’s tidying up again, just like at the end of the previous session.

‘Gwen, hello,’ she says. ‘We actually-,’

‘I know, I just ran into Mimi in the hall,’ Gwen tells her. ‘I didn’t see the email, I’m afraid. Is there any homework or anything I can do for next time? God, homework! I haven’t talked about that in years.’

She tries to keep the conversation light, more Gwen Hooper than Gwen Cooper. She doesn’t want Julia to dwell too much on how the last class ended.

‘It’s going to be tough for me to fit a whole session into something you can catch up on before next time,’ Julia says. She looks at Gwen thoughtfully and purses her lips. She tilts her head.

‘No Jack tonight?’ she asks.

‘Something came up at work,’ Gwen says.

‘And you weren’t worried about coming alone?’

‘My car’s just outside. I know some of the other families here now, I thought it’d be ok. Like you said last week, it’s probably all fine.’

She smiles, trying to sound convincing.

‘Good, that’s good,’ says Julia. She puts her hands on her hips. ‘You know what, I might have something you can look over and practice with your husband before the next class. Let me just pop over to the office and get it.’

‘That’s great, thank you.’

Julia nods and leaves. Gwen is tempted to follow her but decides that’s not the right course of action here. She wanders over to the window and looks outside. She can see her car, under the streetlight in the car park. It’s the only one there. She glances up to the corners of the building, spotting the defunct security cameras. Tosh had concluded those had been deliberately damaged and put offline but suspected it was just an ordinary vandal who’d most likely done it, maybe some bored teenager.

Dusk is falling. The streetlight in the car park flickers on, casting an orange glow across the tarmac.

Julia is taking longer than Gwen thought she would. She’s just about to go and look for the other woman when she walks back through the door into the hall.

She’s not carrying any books or papers, or anything that looks like homework.

No, she’s carrying a gun, and it’s pointed at Gwen.

‘Come with me now, Gwen, that’s it,’ she says. The hypnotic voice Gwen had heard her use in class is dialled up to maximum. Her mind says she should panic, should run away, but her legs are taking her towards Julia.

Julia coaxes her further.

‘That’s it, come on, listen to me now.’

She knows she shouldn’t, know it’s not the right way to feel when someone is pointing a gun at you, but Gwen feels serene. Calmer than she’s felt in a long time.

She comes to a stop just in front of Julia.

‘There we are now. You’re going to come with me.’

Gwen can’t resist, can’t reply. She sees Julia raise her hand up and bring it crashing down towards her face and can do nothing about it.

She crumples to the ground.

As she does so, her phone slips out of her back pocket. Julia sees it and kicks it aside.

As it skids across the wooden floor, a reply from Rhys flashes across the screen.

_Wow! If that’s how you’re going to make it up to me, you can be as late as you like x_


	3. Chapter 3

Ianto is coming back from picking up two sausage and bacon butties from the nearby café in the Bay when he spots Rhys hanging around outside the Tourist Information centre doorway. He’s sat on the bench, hunched over, one leg jigging up and down, staring out to sea.

‘Rhys?’ Ianto asks as he gets closer. His hands are warm from the sandwiches, his stomach rumbling. He really hopes whatever Rhys wants won’t delay his breakfast as he’s starving. He can feel the sauce starting to leak out of the sandwiches into the paper wrapping.

‘Oh, Ianto, hi!’ Rhys says, leaping up. His movements are jerky, full of nervous energy.

‘What’re you doing here?’ Ianto asks, not rudely, as he fishes in his pocket for the key to the office, tucking the sandwiches under his good arm. Owen says he has to keep the sling on for another week for his collarbone to fully recover.

‘You’re going to think I’m some sort of paranoid, stalker husband or something,’ Rhys says as Ianto unlocks the door and lets him in. The office is cold and untouched, Ianto doesn’t have time to staff it or order in up-to-date leaflets these days. ‘But I’m here to see Gwen. She told me she’d be home by eight last night, and then she wasn’t, and usually she’ll keep me updated if she’s going to not be home or something, so I figured maybe it was a bad one and I’d just pop in and say-,’

‘Gwen wasn’t working last night,’ Ianto interrupts his rapid flow of words, feeling his brain kick into action, rifling through possibilities. ‘She left here just before six.’

Rhys makes a choking sound and scuffs the ground with his feet.

‘That’s what I was afraid of,’ he said, ‘but I didn’t want to be that husband who’s all worried because his wife hasn’t been in touch for a few hours, only Gwen usually does check in, she’s good like that, even when the world’s ending.’

Ianto is now feeling very put off his breakfast but he stays calm for Rhys. He can see greyish bags under Rhys’s eyes, can see that this has kept him up all night. He hits the button under the counter to open the secret door and ushers Rhys through.

‘Obviously, I text her a few times, tried calling her,’ he continues as they get into the lift, ‘but I’ve had nothing. Voicemail. I must have left fifteen messages.’

‘It’ll be ok, Rhys, we’ll find her,’ Ianto reassures him.

Rhys nods, chewing his lip. If the lift was bigger, Ianto is sure he’d be pacing by now.

‘What if something has happened to her? Or the baby?’ he asks.

Ianto clears his throat. He knows he and the team will stop at nothing to find Gwen and make sure she’s alright, but what if it’s already too late?

He doesn’t want to consider that, but he also doesn’t want to make Rhys any promises he can’t keep.

The lift doors open.

‘We’re going to do everything we can,’ he tells Rhys. That’s a promise he can keep.

He steps out of the lift and triggers the cog door to open. The lights flash and the horns blare, and Jack, thinking it’s just Ianto returning with a delicious greasy breakfast, comes bounding out of his office, shirt unbuttoned over a cotton t-shirt, suspenders hanging to his knees.

‘Oh, Iantooo,’ he says in a sing-song voice, then comes to an immediate stop as he spots Ianto isn’t alone. He frowns. ‘And Rhys.’

‘We’ve got a problem, Jack,’ Ianto tells him, striding into the Hub. He tosses Jack his sandwich and puts his own down on Gwen’s desk, not sure when he’ll get round to eating it now. The sudden adrenalin rush that’s kicked in with Rhys’s appearance has killed his hunger.

‘What is it?’ Jack asks. He caught the sandwich with both hands and is stood with it clutched to his chest. Usually he’d be ripping into the paper before another word could be said.

‘Gwen didn’t come home last night,’ Ianto says.

‘I’ve tried calling her,’ Rhys adds, starting to repeat what he’s already told Ianto. ‘She said she’d be home by eight, I had the dinner ready on the table.’

Ianto can see that the fact none of them know where Gwen is is starting to break Rhys. He’d come here hoping they’d have answers but now his worst fears have only been confirmed.

Ianto guides him into Gwen’s desk chair, seeing how wobbly his legs have gone, and Jack comes over. He crouches down in front of Rhys and Ianto sees him morph into leader mode, his blue eyes now deadly serious. This isn’t just a façade with Jack, Ianto knows, it’s his very purpose for being. Come to Jack with a problem and the captain will sort it out for you.

Ianto’s scared to find out what will happen if they ever run into a situation that Jack can’t find an answer to.

‘We’ll find her, Rhys,’ he says. ‘If anyone can, we can. Tell me everything you know. When did you last speak to her, what did she say?’

‘It was just by text,’ Rhys says. ‘She told me she was going to be a bit late home, got caught up here, said she’d be about two hours.’

‘What time was this?’

‘Um…’ Rhys reaches a hand into his jacket pocket and brings out his phone. He taps a few keys. ‘Five past six. Then another message a few minutes later, just a little inside joke.’

Jack stands up and turns to Ianto.

‘What time did Gwen leave here yesterday?’

‘Just after half five,’ Ianto supplies. ‘Then you sent Tosh and Owen home not long after.’

‘And we’ve both been here since…’ Jack says. ‘Call Tosh and Owen, check they’re alright and that no one’s picking on our team. If they answer, tell them to get here, pronto.’

Ianto nods and steps away to make the calls. He can hear Jack probing Rhys for more information, asking him questions he doesn’t have answers to.

Both Tosh and Owen answer when Ianto calls. Ianto can hear the wind off the Bay whipping around Tosh as she speaks, confirming that she’s already on her way in. Owen asks what all the rush is about and whether his medical expertise is going to be needed. All Ianto needs to say is ‘Gwen’s missing’ for the doctor to respond ‘I’ll be there in ten’ and hang up.

Ianto returns to Jack and Rhys.

‘They’re on their way in,’ he tells them. ‘They’re both fine, nothing weird happened to them last night.’

‘Why Gwen then?’ Rhys asks. ‘Who’d be after her?’

Ianto racks his brain. Where could Gwen have gone that would mean she’d have lied to Rhys about working? And not mentioned it when she left the Hub the evening before? Ianto can distinctly remember her saying she was heading straight home for a long bath as she left yesterday, the weight of the baby was giving her a sore back and she thought a good soak would help.

And then it hits him. That case had meant so much to Gwen, and she hadn’t mentioned it since, had just let Jack rule out their involvement. That silence was very un-Gwenlike, which meant…

‘She’s still working that case with the missing women,’ Ianto says to Jack, careful to leave out the word ‘pregnant’ so as not to set off alarm bells in Rhys’s mind. ‘The next class was yesterday evening, she must have gone there.’

‘Track her phone,’ Jack says.

Rhys latches onto this as Ianto spins to face the computer, typing fast.

‘Yes!’ he says. ‘That’ll take us straight to her.’

Ianto glances at Jack over his shoulder. He’s stony-faced. Their phone tracking software is good but it’ll only take them straight to Gwen if the phone is still on her.

Tosh enters the Hub just as Ianto gets a ping on the location of Gwen’s mobile. The search program runs the co-ordinates into their mapping software and brings the exact location up. Jack leans over him to look at the result, one hand resting on Ianto’s shoulder.

‘It’s in the community centre,’ he tells Jack.

‘Looks like you were right,’ he says. He squeezes Ianto’s shoulder, then wheels around. ‘Tosh, keep your coat on. Ianto, tell Owen where to meet us. Let’s go.’

*~*TW*~*

Jack brings the SUV to a screeching halt at the edge of the community centre car park. It’s heaving, every space is filled and others have squeezed in around the edges. Children in co-ordinated, brightly coloured and sequinned outfits swarm around the open doors to the building, groups of adults huddled around them.

‘What was Gwen doing here?’ Rhys asks, leaning forward from his seat in the back so he can see through the windscreen, taking everything in.

‘Trying to track down some missing women,’ Jack says, still being sparing on the details to avoid upsetting Rhys. ‘The last place one of them was seen was at a class at this community centre, Gwen thought there might be a link.’

‘Oh God.’

Owen jogs over to them and Jack winds the window down. He’s immediately hit by a blast of over-engineered pop music, synthy and auto-tuned.

‘There’s some sort of kids dance competition on,’ he tells them, indicating the children in their dazzling outfits. ‘I haven’t been able to get inside yet and some of the parents have been giving me the stink eye because I look like a right creep hanging around here.’

Jack twists in his seat.

‘Tosh, I know this is going to sound totally out-dated, but you’ve got the best chance of blending in here and not drawing suspicion. Can you get inside and take a look?’

‘I’m on it,’ Tosh says, fitting her comms unit to her ear. Owen steps around to open the door for her, letting her out before he climbs into her vacated seat.

‘I’m going too,’ Rhys says, starting to unbuckle.

Jack reaches a hand back to him and presses it against his chest, gently pushing him back into his seat.

‘No, Rhys, stay. We don’t want to cause a scene, look at all those kids out there.’

Jack watches Tosh wind her way through the throng, smiling politely to anyone whose eyes she catches. Tosh is good at being unobtrusive, at being mild-mannered, letting the unimportant stuff glide over her as she focuses on the task at hand.

‘I don’t think she’s here, Jack,’ Owen says. ‘If someone’s taken her, why would they keep her here?’

‘This is what we’ve got to go on, let Tosh see what she can find,’ Jack says. He’s had the same thoughts as Owen himself, of course, but they’ve got to start at the beginning of the trail.

Ianto shifts in the passenger seat beside him. Jack glances over.

‘No Rift energy here recently,’ Ianto says, putting his PDA down on his lap. ‘Nothing been dropped here, nothing been taken away. It has to be connected to the case.’

‘There were much bigger gaps between the other disappearances and none from the same location,’ Jack says. Ianto looks up from the PDA on his lap to Jack.

‘Then I guess she found something.’

Jack looks away from the other man and drums his fingers on the steering wheel. Most of the children have been ushered into the building now, ready to begin, but there are still a few wary adults outside, watching them.

‘What if her phone’s here and she’s not? If she’s not here, what do we do next?’ Rhys asks. ‘How can we track her down?’

‘Rhys, relax, okay? Let us do the work, we’ve got this. I can drop you home if -,’ Jack says.

‘Like hell you’re leaving me out of this. Tell me how I can be useful.’

Jack sighs. He’d rather Rhys and his emotional volatility were out of the picture, but if he can’t get rid of him, he needs to know that he’s not going to get in the way.

‘Fine,’ he relents, ‘but you have to agree to one thing. If you are going to help us, if you actually do want to be useful, you have to listen to me. You have to do as I say, no questions asked – you’ve got to trust me and the rest of the team because that’s what we do to keep each other safe. Got it?’

Rhys nods. ‘Got it.’

‘Very commanding,’ Ianto murmurs from beside him. Jack narrows his eyes. Sometimes, he’s not sure whether Ianto is complimenting him or mocking him and the placid look on his face right now is giving nothing away.

‘Start looking into Julia Chandler, the woman who ran the course,’ Jack tells him. ‘Find an address, that’s where we’ll go next. Owen, bring up Gwen’s notes on the case, see if there’s anything useful – a recurring location, any witnesses.’

‘And me?’ Rhys asks.

‘Keep an eye on the building, tell me if you spot anything unusual.’

It’s busy-work, but it’ll give Rhys something to channel his energy into, something to focus on. Jack’s scoped this building out himself and found nothing significant, and there’s a low chance of anything new kicking off in broad daylight.

Another two minutes pass, the SUV quiet but for the tapping away of Ianto and Owen’s hands on keyboards and the dull bassy thud of music echoing over from the open hall doors.

Jack spots Tosh heading back over to them, something small and black clutched in one of her hands. She opens the back passenger door and Owen slides up to make space for her.

She holds her hand out towards Jack, revealing what’s inside.

‘I’ve found Gwen’s phone,’ she says. ‘They had it in the lost property. I pretended it was mine and I’d dropped it during yesterday’s class.’

Jack takes the phone and looks it over. The plastic casing is scuffed and there’s a crack down the edge of the screen. He presses a few buttons and the screen lights up with a string of messages from Rhys, hiding the image of his and Gwen’s faces beneath. He hands the phone to Ianto who starts to flick through it.

‘Anything else?’ Jack asks Tosh.

‘I asked the woman on lost property whether she’d seen Julia Chandler, whether she was in the office or not but she said she’s only in when she has a class. She sounded a bit pissed off about her too, said she hadn’t tidied up properly after last night’s and that’s part of the agreement to use the hall.’

‘Sounds like Ms Chandler left in a rush.’

‘I’ve got her address,’ Ianto says, leaning forward to tap it into the satnav. ‘It’s not too far from here.’

‘Let’s go pay her a visit.’

*~*TW*~*

Gwen’s head is banging. Even just opening her eyes requires a huge effort, all her instincts are telling her to keep them shut and lie back in peace, let her head recover from whatever’s happened to her. She doesn’t learn much from opening them either – she’s surrounded by darkness but knows she’s not in her own comfy bed or even the eerie peace of the Hub.

What had happened again?

Oh yeah, Julia. The gun. It could be worse, she thinks, it seems like Julia hadn’t outright shot her, at least.

She goes to move her hand up to her temple where the pounding seems to be emanating from but finds that she can’t. Her arms are strapped down by her sides. She wriggles and discovers her legs are caught up in the same predicament.

Her eyes have adjusted to the low light now. It’s not totally pitch black in here, there’s a faint green glow in the corner of her eyes, and a crack of light across from her in the outline of a door. She struggles against her bonds some more and tries to figure out what she’s strapped to. It’s cold, potentially metallic. The straps themselves are tight and cutting into her wrists, some sort of plastic.

‘Hello?’ she calls out.

Her voice echoes. Wherever she is, it’s not a small space. The only reply she hears is a faint buzzing, like that of machines ticking over.

She clears her throat and tries again.

‘Julia? Where are you? Let’s talk.’

That does the trick. The door opposite her slides open, a figure silhouetted in the sudden burst of light. Gwen shuts her eyes against the intrusion, feeling the sting of the light cutting through to her pounding head.

The figure steps forward but doesn’t bring any further light. A further two people follow.

‘Julia?’ Gwen says again. ‘Come on, talk to me. Where are the others, Julia? It was you, wasn’t it? You’ve taken them all away from their lives, from their families.’

‘And none of the rest of them gave us this much grief,’ Julia says at last, stepping close enough now that Gwen can finally see her properly. Her voice has lost the dreamy quality she had used to enchant them all before, it’s flint-hard and the lines of her face are set to match it.

‘Us?’ Gwen asks. The other two figures are still too hard for her to make out. ‘You’re part of a team?’

‘These are my sisters,’ Julia says, and two other women emerge into the light. Gwen recognises them instantly as Judith and Jan, the other two ante-natal class leaders that she’d seen in her research. Stood together in a line, the resemblance is clear – what she had thought might be one woman changing her appearance through alien means or otherwise, is actually three.

‘We know who you are, Gwen Cooper,’ Judith says. ‘We looked into you after your first class, we found out you’re part of Torchwood.’

‘You think we’d come through the Rift and not know about Torchwood?’ says Jan.

‘You came through the Rift?’ Gwen asks them. ‘Where are you from? Who are you? I can help.’

‘We don’t need your primitive help, we have everything we need. In fact, our work here is nearly done,’ says Julia. She snaps her fingers and her sisters walk towards Gwen, crouching down besides the unit she is strapped into.

‘What work?’ Gwen asks. She’s trying to distract them, to keep them busy and give the team time to get to her, but she’s also desperate to know why these people have been taking pregnant women off the streets. If she knows that, then maybe she can find them still.

‘We are midwives of the Jantra-Chun,’ Julia starts.

‘Our planet is flooded with chemicals, much like yours, and our people have struggled to carry their young to term,’ says Judith, adjusting the straps at Gwen’s feet.

‘We were tasked with finding a species to carry our young, a species similar to our own even if they are primitive and lacking some of our more unique abilities,’ says Jan. She’s stood up from Gwen’s straps now and is working away at a series of buttons Gwen has just noticed are connected to the unit she’s tied into. Beeps emanate as her fingers fly over the keys – her unusually long fingers.

‘And so we used your Rift to come here. We have used our skills as midwives to research what potential you have,’ says Julia.

‘And?’ Gwen demands.

‘And your wombs will suffice. We are ready to return home and take our learnings with us, and then we shall return for more wombs.’

‘Women, you mean,’ Gwen says. ‘You’ll return to take more women.’

‘They will be used to birth a higher species, a great honour,’ says Julia.

A glass screen slides down over Gwen, sealing her into the unit. She yells and struggles with her bonds. She rages as she realises she’s trapped just like the mayflies at the Pharm were.

‘Be calm now, hush, you’ll do your baby no good,’ Julia says, pressed up close to the glass. The charm has wound its way back into her voice, granting Gwen a serenity unlike any she’s ever felt.

Julia grins as Gwen falls silent, lulled.

‘All part of the midwife package,’ she whispers, leaning in, holding her hand up against Gwen’s face. ‘Keeps the mother calm and stress-free. Yet it has so many other uses.’

A hiss sounds above Gwen and the unit starts to fill with a thick, white gas. Somewhere, in the back of her mind, she’s panicking, but that feeling is numbed as her vision fades. The last thing she sees is Julia’s face, a long finger pressed to her lips.

‘Shh, shh, shh,’ she murmurs. ‘That’s it.’

*~*TW*~*

Jack has no qualms about kicking Julia Chandler’s door down when no one answers.

Her house isn’t anything fancy – a two-up, two-down red-brick terrace not far from the community centre. The front garden is only a few metres long, weeds growing through the cracked Victorian tiles – such a shame when these old houses aren’t properly looked after, he thinks, as his foot comes down hard against the door and splinters the wood in the frame.

‘I thought you guys would have something more high-tech than this,’ Rhys comments as the door gives way.

‘If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it,’ Jack says, stepping through and inspecting the now thoroughly broken door. He ushers the others in, Ianto pausing in the doorway to explain to the shocked neighbour that they’re undercover police, pulling a badge out of his inside pocket.

‘Julia?’ Jack calls.

The house is still. A quiet coldness hangs in the air, a sense that no one has been here in days.

‘Gwen?’ Rhys shouts. ‘Gwen, love?’

‘Tosh, Owen, check out upstairs,’ Jack says. Tosh and Owen nod, Tosh leading the way upstairs, hand to the gun on her hip.

Jack can see a kitchen at the end of the hallway. It’s cramped, the surfaces piled with bowls and plates. He nudges the door to his left open with his foot and finds himself in the living room.

It’s stacked high with boxes, each box piled with papers. Somewhere amongst this hoarder nightmare is a sofa, a gas fireplace and a coffee table.

Jack squeezes into the room and Rhys attempts to follow, but there’s no room.

‘Oh,’ he says, peaking his head around the door.

‘Ianto,’ Jack calls into the hallway, having heard the front door shut. ‘Little archiving case for you.’

Rhys steps towards the kitchen to give Ianto room to pass by. Jack presses up against a stack of boxes so Ianto can get a foot into the room.

‘Shit,’ says Ianto. He reaches into the nearest box and removes a sheaf of paper. He brings it closer to his face to study it, then holds it out to Jack. ‘Is that any earth alphabet you recognise?’

‘Is it… is it Thai?’ Jack asks, peering at the undulating characters, cramped together in fat black lines.

‘I don’t speak it well enough myself to know,’ says Ianto wryly. ‘We need Tosh to run it through her languages database, she’s got the scanner.’

Footsteps on the stairs. Owen and Tosh appear at the bottom, Owen clutching something that Jack is sure isn’t of earthly origin.

‘That’s a Chula blaster,’ he says, reaching for it. He checks it over. ‘A dead one.’

‘I think Gwen was right, Jack,’ Owen says. ‘This isn’t just a regular police case, this is a Torchwood one.’

‘Even if it wasn’t aliens they made it a Torchwood case as soon as they took Gwen,’ Jack says, handing the blaster back to Owen. ‘Tosh, can you scan the language on here, see if that gives any more clues? That’s not Chulan on those papers but they’re major traders, whoever we’re dealing with could have bought it from them in about a hundred different star systems.’

Ianto passes Tosh one of the papers then disappears back into the living room. He puts his hands on his hips and looks about the room, deciding where to start. Jack knows he’s entered serious filing mode when his jacket comes off and he rolls his sleeves up.

‘Rhys, see if Ianto needs help,’ Jack says. He knows Ianto will be happiest left to complete this work alone, or maybe with Tosh who can be trusted not to upset his systems, but Jack is watching Rhys crumple in on himself and knows the man needs something to do.

Owen and Tosh are studying the results on the scanner, Owen holding the paper out for Tosh to run the machine over.

‘It’s not quite identifying the language but it’s managing to get some words,’ Tosh says. She frowns and runs a finger along a line of the translation. ‘Our working theory that human women are enough alike… and then it’s not sure of the next word… to act as… surrogate, can that be right?’

‘It’s a scientific report,’ Owen says. ‘They’re writing up their findings. Whoever they are, it looks like they want to use human women to grow their own babies.’

Jack feels sick. Inter-species surrogacy isn’t a total unknown to him, it’s perfectly common in some galaxies, but there is always consent, there’s always a shared benefit for all those involved and an understanding that the practice is safe. Twenty-first century humans aren’t built for this though, their genes are too pure, they haven’t yet picked up the alien quirks that will help them expand out into the universe and join the community beyond their own world.

And whoever is conducting these experiments has Gwen.

‘Ianto,’ he says, managing to squeeze himself into the living room again. ‘Have you got anything for us?’

‘I read fast, Jack, but not that fast,’ Ianto says, rifling through a box in the bay window with his good arm. ‘The contents of this one seem to be in English at least. Here, Rhys.’

He hands Rhys the top of the stack and then starts to go through the next one. Rhys takes it from him and flicks through the papers without a word. Jack steps out to Tosh and Owen again.

‘The cameras at the centre-,’ he starts.

‘Are out of order,’ Tosh interrupts, ‘and maybe now we know why.’

‘What about those in a nearby radius? Have we got details of any vehicles our suspect might own, anything we can track?’

‘Our work in the SUV found an old Peugeot in her name. I’ll go out to the laptop in the car and-,’

‘I’ve got something!’ Ianto says from the living room. Jack can hear him stepping over boxes, knocking some over as he makes his way back out towards them. His fingers wrap around the door and he awkwardly half-pulls himself out of the entanglements of the room using the arm that isn’t wrapped in a sling. He showcases a piece of paper for them, victoriously.

‘Warehouse leasing contract,’ he says. ‘Ms Chandler has the rights to a very spacious unit down on Lamby Way until the end of this year. Has had it for two years already.’

‘Spacious enough to hide stolen people in?’ Jack asks.

‘Definitely,’ says Ianto.

Jack doesn’t even need to tell them the team to move as they’re already racing out the door.

*~*TW*~*

Jack pulls the car up around the corner from the warehouse, looking to keep a low profile. The team have kept quiet on the way over, letting Jack speed through town with the blue strip lights flashing, other cars clearing a path for them as Tosh set all the lights to green.

He puts the handbrake on and turns to the team, eyes landing on Rhys. He’s spent the trip over wondering what to do with Gwen’s husband. He wants to keep him out of harm’s way but he knows Rhys can’t be trusted to sit still and quiet when he knows Gwen is in danger.

‘You can come with us, Rhys, but remember what you agreed to earlier. Listen to me. I’m not having a repeat of the space whale incident.’

‘I’ve learnt my lesson about getting in the way of guns,’ Rhys says.

‘Let’s hope so,’ says Jack. ‘Owen, Ianto, you go round the back. Tosh and Rhys, you’re with me. Comms on, keep quiet. Finding Gwen is the priority, we’ll deal with anything else after that.’

They all nod and get out of the car, already geared up.

It’s become a balmy day, the sun breaking through clouds that scud across a bright blue sky. The industrial estate they’ve come to is quiet, it seems most of the warehouse units are used for long term storage and aren’t visited often.

Jack leads Tosh and Rhys across the car park towards Unit 9, hiding away in the back corner, windowless and discreet. Owen and Ianto have headed off wide of them, sweeping in to look for the back entrance.

‘There’s Julia Chandler’s car,’ Tosh says, pointing out a blue Peugeot 307 parked alongside the warehouse. ‘That’s definitely the reg.’

‘Then this is where we need to be,’ says Jack.

They close the distance to the building. Jack leans up against the wall next to the door, Tosh and Rhys falling in behind him. He draws out his Webley and presses his ear to the metal but can’t make out any sounds.

He holds his fingers out to the other two, counting down from three… two… one…

He tries the door handle and it opens readily. He strides inside, checking the corners – no one. It’s a quiet entry corridor, the lights off. Tosh and Rhys follow as Jack strikes off further into the building. He’s picked up on some sound now, voices that appear to be arguing, but in that hushed way parents use when they’re trying to hide their disagreement from their children.

‘We need to leave now,’ one of them is saying, definitely a woman’s voice.

‘The transmat isn’t ready for the stasis units, it needs more power from the Rift to take the extra mass,’ replies another, this one familiar – Julia Chandler.

Jack continues up the corridor, following the voices to another door.

‘We can come back for them once we’ve reported our findings.’

‘If we leave them here now Torchwood will find them and burn them to the ground, that’s what they do,’ Julia argues.

‘We actually try not to burn things to the ground,’ says Jack, stepping through the door, startling the two women on the other side. ‘Tends to draw too much attention.’

Jack has a moment to take in the room – a bare office, tables pushed up against the wall to make space for what he recognises as a transmat, and a large one at that. Lights flicker around the edge of the large circular teleport system. A woman who looks a lot like Julia stands at the control panel. She drops her hands from what she was doing and steps back from it.

Beside her, Julia sneers, drawing herself up to her full height to cover the surprise she’s just had.

‘Don’t tell me you don’t love attention, Captain Harkness,’ she says.

‘Who doesn’t?’ he shrugs. ‘Now where’s Gwen?’

He points his Webley at them.

Julia stares at him, defiant. As it turns out, he doesn’t need her to answer as Owen’s voice pops into his ear. She watches Jack as he listens to the message.

‘Jack, we’ve found, Gwen, we’ve found a whole lot of women, they’re all wired up into some sort of stasis pods.’

‘Thanks, Owen. Get her out, we’ll be right there,’ he says. He turns back to Julia. ‘Never mind, my team have already found her. So, I guess we’ll be taking Gwen and all those other women home, and we’ll be taking you to our cells. You can come easily or you can come the hard way, but I’ll warn you now, I like a challenge.’

Julia comes closer to Jack, sneer still in place.

‘A challenge it is then,’ she says. She twists to face her lookalike and shouts, ‘Press the kill switch now!’

‘But what about-,’ the other women starts.

‘Do it!’

Jack can’t move fast enough to stop her palm coming down on a large red button on the control console she’s stood at. She’s already made contact with it by the time he tackles her, but she fights back, screeching and clawing out at him. Julia jumps on top of his back and wraps her arm around his throat, pulling him back off her. Rhys bellows and charges in, trying to pull Julia off Jack as the other woman continues to scratch out at him, nails growing into talons before his eyes, the illusion of the human appearance fading away as they howl and fight.

‘Jack, the pods, they’re all filling with some sort of gas, we haven’t managed to get Gwen out yet,’ Ianto’s panicked voice sounds in his ear.

‘Tosh, the controls,’ Jack manages to pant out, but Tosh is already on it, running her hands along the control console.

‘I recognise some of the symbols from the scanner’s translation, hang on,’ she says.

Jack has managed to pin Julia down with Rhys’s help, both of them bearing vivid red streaks across their faces now. The other woman is turning her attention to Tosh, but Tosh, with some sort of sixth sense, turns and shoots her in the foot before returning to studying the controls.

‘Your belt, Rhys, give me your belt,’ Jack says.

Bewildered, Rhys does as he’s told, then falls back against the wall, heaving in deep breaths. Jack wraps the belt around Julia’s wrist and adds his own around her legs. He hauls her onto the transmat along with the other woman who is weeping as she tugs at her injured foot, bright green blood pouring out from Tosh’s neat shot.

‘Has the gas stopped?’ Tosh asks over the comms.

‘No, and the life support readings are going ballistic,’ Owen replies, his voice strained. ‘We’re trying to break it open.’

‘Gwen!’ Rhys cries, heaving himself to his feet.

‘Tosh, keep trying here,’ Jack tells his tech officer. ‘We’ve got to go and help get Gwen out. But first, I just -,’

Face stinging with ragged scratches, Jack meets Julia’s eyes as he reaches over Tosh’s shoulder to hit the one familiar symbol on the control panel.

The transmat boots up. Stood next to it, Jack can feel the rush of warmth that comes with it kicking into action, there’s a flash of light, a wail from Julia, and then she and her friend are gone.

He doesn’t tell Tosh that he can see that the co-ordinates hadn’t locked on to a location yet, that he’s just sent their two captives out into the vast, cold darkness of open space.

‘You’ve got this, Tosh,’ he says. ‘Rhys, come on.’

Jack sprints down the corridor, Rhys at his heels, until they come to a set of double doors. Jack barges through them into the main warehouse space. It’s dimly lit, only half of the overhead lights have any power going to them. Stasis pods line the walls, the windows fogged up with gas.

In the back corner, Jack spots Ianto awkwardly trying to drive one of the pods open with a crowbar using only one arm. Owen is distracted dealing with yet another Julia doppelganger, tussling up against the wall as she lashes out at him with her claws. Owen is doing his best to keep out of reach, trying to grasp her flailing arms and pin them down.

‘Help me out here, Jack, I don’t fancy walking around like Freddy Kreuger for eternity!’ he shouts, kicking out at the woman’s feet.

Jack dashes over and uses his extra height to his advance, bringing his arm down over the woman’s, pushing them back against the wall. She screeches and spits at Jack.

‘Aw, come on now,’ he says.

‘Give me a second,’ says Owen, stepping back and reaching into his back pocket. ‘I’ve got one ready here.’

He pulls a weevil spray out of his back pocket and blasts it in the woman’s face. Jack feels the fight go out of her as she loses consciousness and slumps in his arms. He rubs the back of his sleeve across his face, wiping the spittle away.

Rhys is helping Ianto but they’ve had no luck prizing the door of the pod open. Jack turns to the controls on the side of the unit and scans them but everything he presses results in a dull buzz.

‘I think whatever they did to release the gas disabled the controls,’ Owen says, standing beside him. He’s frowning, eyes on the life signs. Jack may not have the medical training that Owen has had, but he knows enough to see that the falling numbers aren’t good. ‘We’ve got to get her out soon, Jack, and then get a lot of oxygen in her. Same goes for all the women here.’

Jack can just about make out Gwen’s face through the steamed-up pod window. Her freckled eyelids are drawn down over her eyes, her skin wan and waxy.

Ianto strains once more against the door with the crowbar and then tosses it aside as it proves futile.

‘We must have something better than this in the SUV,’ he says.

Jack nods.

‘Get whatever you can find. Quickly,’ he says.

Without another word, Ianto turns on his heel and runs for the door.

Rhys continues to paw at the pod.

‘Gwen, love, Gwen, can you hear me? We’re going to get you out any second now, yeah? Just hold on in there,’ he says. Jack rests a hand on Rhys’s shoulder and looks way.

‘How many other women?’ he asks Owen.

‘Six, and Gwen,’ he says. ‘I can’t quite tell what stage of pregnancy any of them might be in or what’s been done to them, we might want to call in some back-up to get them to hospitals.’

‘We can-,’ he starts, but is interrupted by the sound of the seal on the pod door releasing. Rhys acts fast, wrenching the door to Gwen’s unit open. He coughs as the gas assaults his mouth and nose as it makes a bid for freedom, rising up to the ceiling.

He places his hands on either side of Gwen’s face, searching for some sign of life.

‘Come on, Gwen, it’s me, I’m here,’ he whispers.

Jack pulls back on Rhys’s shoulder, drawing him away. He resists but relents as Owen adds his own weight, saying,

‘Let me look at her, Rhys, I can help.’

‘Jack, did it work?’ Tosh’s voice comms over the comms.

Jack taps his ear.

‘You’ve done it, Tosh. Come help us out in here? You too, Ianto, no need for the big guns now.’

‘I never get to have my turn at the big guns,’ Ianto grumbles in his ear. The corner of Jack’s lip twitches into a smile.

He watches Owen work for a moment, checking Gwen’s pulse and lifting her eyelids. Satisfied that his medic isn’t reacting with any huge concern at Gwen’s wellbeing, he starts to make his way down the line of pods.

As he opens the doors, the gas floods out into the air. He recognises the faces of some of the women from Gwen’s research as he makes his way through, checking their vital signs – all alive, all more pregnant than Gwen. He’s not sure how aware any of them are of their ordeal and hopes they can get them safely to a hospital before they come to, with family at their side. They don’t get to reunite families often enough in their line of work.

Owen and Rhys have released Gwen from her pod now, she’s propped up in Rhys’s lap and seems to be coming to. Owen is checking her for signs of concussion, asking what she last remembers.

‘Julia and her cronies locking me up in this thing,’ she says with a groan. ‘Owen, my baby –,’

‘Is good and healthy,’ Owen tells her. ‘If I’ve read the vital signs readings on this thing properly then it was monitoring you and baby and you’re both fine, just in need of some fresh air and time to get over getting conked on the head.’

The final pod in the row is on a slight tilt. Looking through the window before he opens it, Jack can see that the woman inside doesn’t looks as peaceful as the others had done, that her jaw is tight, her teeth grit.

He opens the door to release the gas and a second later the air is split with pained screams.

Jack’s eyes widen as the woman screams, eyes screwed shut, breathing hard through her grinding teeth. It’s an expression he’s not seen many times in his life but he knows it immediately.

‘Owen!’ he shouts. ‘I’ve got a woman in labour here!’

Owen gets to his feet from beside Gwen and Rhys and dashes over. Tosh and Ianto, having returned to the room, join him.

‘Who… are you?’ the woman manages to get out between panting breaths.

‘Doctor Owen Harper,’ Owen says, brushing Jack aside. ‘Do you know how far along you are? When did your contractions start?’

‘Those… women,’ she says. ‘They-,’

‘Don’t worry about them, they’ve gone. We’re here to help. What’s your name?’

‘Jenna Hayes,’ she replies, then moans, flopping her head back. The sweaty strings of strawberry blonde hair that stick to her forehead suggests she’s been at this for some time before she was put on pause. ‘Oh god, it hurts!’

‘Jack, lay your coat on the floor and help me get her out of here,’ Owen instructs, already starting to unstrap Jenna’s feet. ‘Tosh, go see if you can get me any kind of towels and hot water. Ianto, call in a favour with the emergency crews, we’re going to need support here getting all of these women checked over and home safe. Where’s my kit?’

He turns around looking for his bag. Both Ianto and Tosh disappear again, Jack can see Ianto already connecting a call through to the emergency services, stating Torchwood as if the name is a code word. In Cardiff, it might as well be.

‘Here,’ says Rhys, walking over to them, Gwen wrapped to his side. She’s on her own two feet but clearly needs the extra support taking her own weight right now. He hands Owen his kit bag.

Jack strips his coat off and spreads it on the ground, knowing Ianto can’t begrudge him this trip to the dry cleaners. He helps Owen unbuckle the final steps from Jenna and scoops her up as gently as he can, before placing her on top of his coat.

‘Jack, sit with your back to her so she’s propped up, it’s a better position,’ Owen tells him and Jack does so, unquestioningly.

‘I was going… to have… a water birth,’ Jenna says, her hands clutching at Jack’s coat.

‘And I’m sure you also weren’t going to be kidnapped by aliens before going into labour either,’ says Owen, not looking at Jenna but at his watch, ‘but here we are. Now, is there anything I need to know? Any medical history, anything about the baby?’

Jenna groans again and Jack reaches back to offer her a hand to hold onto. She takes it and he instantly feels the bones of his fingers being crushed. He bites the inside of his cheek.

‘Allergic to bees,’ she says.

‘I think we’ll be alright with that here.’

‘Have you… done this before?’ she asks.

‘It’s not my specialism but I can manage,’ Owen says, finally looking back to her. ‘Your contractions are close together, baby isn’t far off now.’

He reaches into his med kit and pulls out rubber gloves, then stretches them onto his hands.

‘Ready to start pushing?’

*~*TW*~*

In the car park, Jack cradles the newborn baby in his arms as the paramedics Ianto has called in check Jenna over. Barely ten minutes ago, as the sirens had sounded around the estate, Jenna had given birth to a baby girl that Owen had pronounced perfectly healthy and bundled up in some towels that Tosh had managed to borrow from a dry cleaning business on the other side of the industrial estate, promising she’d pay for them to be re-cleaned.

The baby stares up at him with eyes too big for her scrunched-up head, her skin raw and pink. Jack bends his knees a little and rocks her from side to side.

‘That look suits you,’ Gwen says, walking over to him, arm linked with Rhys’s. The ambulance crews have applied some steristrips to some of the Welshman’s deeper cuts, he looks like a child who’s been having too much fun with a craft project and managed to glue paper to themselves.

‘Anyone can look good holding a baby,’ Jack tells her, ‘the baby does all the work.’

‘Still,’ says Gwen, ‘you look like you’ve had practice.’

‘Maybe, a long time ago,’ he says evasively. He looks up from the baby to Gwen. ‘How are you?’

‘No lasting damage. The paramedics have prescribed bed rest,’ she says.

‘And I’ll be making sure she gets it,’ Rhys adds, holding her close.

‘Good,’ says Jack. ‘And then, when you’re back to work, I’ll have Ianto bring up the disciplinary forms so we can discuss what happened here, Mrs Cooper.’

‘I was right though,’ Gwen says. ‘This was a Torchwood case.’

‘I can’t fault your instinct,’ he says, ‘but your method needs some work. I can’t be running round town performing daring rescues for you all the time.’

‘I’ll work on it, Jack, I will. And you’ll listen to me when I think I’m onto something?’

Jack sighs. He stares back down into the baby’s big, blue eyes and tries not to dwell on the call he’d had with UNIT the other day – creeping in on his jurisdiction, wanting to break down everything he’s built here, saying he’s irresponsible and can’t be trusted and the Queen’s influence and resource isn’t what it used to be. The efforts of his team should be more structured, and they should certainly be more closely monitored, that’s what Corporal Jennings had said.

UNIT can’t be trusted. He knew that long before he pulled Tosh out of the dank hole they had locked her up in for daring to be such a genius, for caring for her family above all else. He’s only done some digging but knows the other alien taskforce to be in the pockets of some other shadowy groups, many with military interests.

It’s his job to protect the people of the twenty-first century from the Rift. It’s also his job to protect the Rift and its secrets from the people who would use it to destroy things they can’t even begin to comprehend – and that’s not something he can tell anyone about. That’s his burden alone. The less his own team knows, the better.

‘I’ll do my best,’ Jack concedes. ‘But you can be the one to tell Ianto that we’re not doing the disciplinary form, he’ll be very disappointed not to use his big red stamp, he likes using that.’

‘What you two do in your own time should be kept between yourselves,’ Gwen tells him with a smile.

Owen jogs over to them.

‘They’re taking Jenna away now, her boyfriend’s going to meet her at the hospital,’ he says. ‘You should probably let her take her baby with her.’

He reaches his arms out for the gurgling bundle.

‘You did good today, Owen,’ Jack says as he hands her over, giving Owen a moment to support the weight of her head before he lets go.

‘Good practice, innit?’ Owen says, looking down at the baby, threading a finger through her tiny hand. ‘If Gwen has any emergencies then I’m ready for them.’

‘If I don’t make it to the private suite with expert midwives that Martha has hooked me up with, Owen, then so help all of you,’ Gwen says. ‘I am _not_ giving birth where you dissect alien corpses.’

‘Picky, isn’t she?’ Owen comments.

‘Don’t I know it?’ says Rhys, for which Gwen jabs him in the ribs with her elbow.

Jack chuckles.

‘Come on, home with you,’ he tells the couple, as Owen carries the baby over to her mother in the back of the ambulance. ‘We’ll finish with clean up.’

‘Thanks, Jack,’ says Gwen as Rhys nods his own thank you. ‘See you tomorrow.’

Jack watches them walk away, passing Tosh and Ianto at the SUV where they’re busy seeding the beginnings of a cover story. It’s a tricky one this time given several of the women have been missing longer than a human gestational period but are still just as pregnant as they were when they disappeared – Jack’s interested to see what they come up with.

Before that though, he has one more alien to deal with.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's the end of another episode! Coming up next, we've got some BAMF Gwen and Tosh...
> 
> Episode 7: When an angered young blowfish with a broken vortex manipulator transports Jack, Ianto and Owen back in time to the 1970s, it's up to Gwen and Tosh to get them back. 
> 
> Stuck in the 1970s, Jack turns to the one person he can trust for help - even if she does hate him - leading Ianto to learn one more of the secrets Jack has been keeping.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope all of my research into pregnancy timelines and ante-natal classes pays off for this one, otherwise my Google search history and retargeted ads may just alarm my husband for no good reason...
> 
> Next part up soon!


End file.
